Chapter 5 - The Unmasking
Chloe, who had been listening in horrified silence, suddenly realized she had attached herself to a sinking ship. The parasitic survival instinct kicked in immediately.
She pushed away from the bar, backing away from Julian as if he were highly contagious. She clutched her silk-covered stomach and looked frantically at Winston, tears streaming down her face.
“Wait! Please!” Chloe begged, her voice shrill. “I didn’t know! He lied to me! I thought he was rich! You can’t throw me out on the street, I’m pregnant with his child! The stress is going to hurt the baby!”
Winston Hayes looked at Chloe with an expression of profound, clinical disgust. He didn’t answer her. He turned his gaze to me.
“Winston,” I whispered. My voice was dark, raspy, and carried the weight of absolute vengeance. “Bring her the medical file.”
Winston reached back into his titanium briefcase. He retrieved a single, sealed manila envelope bearing the embossed gold crest of Sterling International. He didn’t hand it to Chloe. Instead, he opened it and pulled out a small stack of private medical records printed on official hospital letterhead.
“What is it?” Julian demanded. The mention of his child, his “heir,” snapped him out of his catatonic shock. He scrambled across the floor on his hands and knees.
Winston stepped back, holding the paper up. He cleared his throat and read aloud, his voice projecting clearly across the grand hall.
“Medical records from Dr. Aris at Cedars-Sinai,” Winston announced. “Patient: Chloe Vance. Blood panels drawn forty-eight hours ago. Highlighted notes read: Patient is not currently pregnant. Nồng độ hCG bằng không. Zero. Furthermore, patient underwent an elective tubal ligation four years prior. Pregnancy is physically impossible.”
The air was violently sucked out of the room.
Julian stopped breathing. He slowly looked up, his eyes wide, wild, and filled with a manic, fracturing realization. He looked at the mistress who had just spent the last hour rubbing her stomach and demanding sparkling water for a phantom baby.
“You… you aren’t pregnant?” Julian whispered, his voice a horrifying, hollow rasp. “You’ve been lying? For months? You told me you were late. You told me we were having a son.”
Chloe backed away, hitting the edge of the mahogany bar. The mask of the elegant, nauseous mistress was entirely gone, replaced by the desperate, ugly panic of a cornered con artist.
“I needed a guarantee!” Chloe shrieked, raising her hands to defend herself from his wild eyes. “You were stalling on the divorce! I couldn’t risk you staying with her for her quiet money! I needed you to commit to me! I was going to fake a miscarriage next month, you idiot!”
“I destroyed my marriage for you!” Julian roared. The sheer, unfathomable reality of his own colossal stupidity broke his mind. He lunged at Chloe, his hands outstretched toward her throat.
Before he could cross half the distance, two Sterling security guards moved with blinding speed. They effortlessly grabbed Julian by the shoulders, lifted him off his feet, and slammed him face-first back down onto the marble floor, pinning his arms behind his back.
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“Throw them out,” I commanded, my voice echoing in the dead silence. “Both of them. Do not let them take a phone, a wallet, or a coat. Let them walk down the private road in the dark.”
The security guards hauled Julian to his feet. They dragged him and a weeping Chloe toward the massive front entrance. They were physically thrown out the doors, stumbling and falling onto the cold, hard concrete of the driveway.
